A South Park Christmas Story
by xXDark.Lord.MeloniousXx
Summary: Stan makes a New Years vow to win Kyle's heart, but needs to find the bravery to actually pursue his goal. The Christmas spirit may give him cause. STYLE
1. Cold Feet

**My Christmas gift to all my readers; updates of all fanfictions in progress AND a fluffy oneshot for Stan and Kyle! Happy Holidays everyone!**

* * *

"Merry Christmas!"

Stan beamed, walking through the warmed halls of the school, listening to all the familiar voices of his childhood calling out good wishes in cheer. Vacation was fast approaching, candy canes hanging from classroom thresholds, red, green and white streamers and confetti on lockers and books and doors. Butters passed by, waving with a Santa hat on his tuffs of blonde hair,

"Merry Christmas, St-St-Stan!"

Stan's smile spread wider yet, "Merry Christmas to you too, Butters!"

Ah, there was nothing quite like Christmas time in South Park. Sixteen, now, Stan was the Big Man on campus; long, satin, ebony hair framing his face, big, blue eyes and football-toned muscles. The year before, Cartman had made a vow to lose weight, and he kept to it. He tried working out, dieting, but of course he could never stick to anything; however, the classic Cartman wouldn't give up until he came out on top. He ended up gypping neighbors and friends out of hundreds and thousands of dollars so he could afford liposuction. In any case, he looked good. Kenny had made a list of people he wanted to sleep with by the next year; however he did it, he accomplished his goal as well. Another well-wisher passed by, some girls waving and giggling to Stan flirtatiously by one of the classrooms he passed. He waved back at them, replying to every voice and call with holiday glee and sickening optimism. He finally spotted the secret apple of his eye neatly packing notebooks into his locker.

"Kyle!"

The redhead looked to him, smiling gently, the jade of Christmas in his sparkling eyes as he responded shyly,

"Hey, Stan."

The athlete leaned up on the locker next to Kyle's, observing the beauty up close. His high cheekbones, his cinnamon freckles, his light yet not pale skin glistening with a possible silk texture, his long, thick lashes matching his marmalade cascades of bouncy curls. Kyle had grown out of his "Jew-fro", it had calmed into twenty or so curls that had the appearance of fiery ribbons that had been twisted around someone's finger for a very long time, then released. His lips were full, his button nose and cheeks flustered from the cold outside but his very being emanating the majesty and magic of the miracles of the season. Stan had made a vow last year as well, one he kept privately to himself, but he still hadn't accomplished it. He had let an entire year pass without meeting his goal, not finding the time, the effort or possibly the bravery. That meant he only had until the midnight of that day, December twenty-forth, to win Kyle Broflovski's heart.

"What's up?" Stan interviewed casually.

Kyle sighed, "Nothing really. I'm thinking I'm gonna cut eighth and ninth period. You wanna come with me?"

Stan's cheeks colored with shades of pink, his heart beating a bit louder in his chest,

"Yeah, sure. Hey…you doin' anything for Christmas, dude?"

Kyle cocked a brow, "Dude, I'm Jewish, I don't celebrate it; what could I possibly have planned?"

Stan shrugged, "I dunno, I just wanted to know, that's all."

"Why?"

Stan readjusted his jacket, "Well, my parents are going to a Christmas party tonight, Shelly's staying at her boyfriend's and I figured if you had nothing to do…you might wanna come over and hang out with me tonight."

"Are you sure?" Kyle inquired as he shut his locker, his dainty hand lingering on his red lock, "You wouldn't rather be at Cartman's Christmas party?"

Stan rolled his eyes, "You're asking me to choose between you or Cartman…isn't that kind of obvious, Kyle?"

The redhead flustered, looking away in the adorable way that made Stan's knees weak, "Shut up. Fine, then, fuck eighth and ninth and I'll just go to your house after school or something."

"Yeah? Okay. Uhm…straight after school?"

Stan recalled the mess in his room and living room, an urge to clean it evolving in his stomach,

"I've actually got to take care of something at home first, so I'd probably be over a little after school."

"Let's set a time," Stan pressed nervously, "you know, so we…uhm…so we have a…"

Kyle's head bent down a little, his brows perking, "…a date?"

Stan blushed furiously, backing away a little, "W-well," The year's worth of anxiety and procrastination tickled his cheeks and made his now sweaty hands restless, "Y-you know, m-maybe-"

"Sup, faggots?" Cartman interrupted, walking in between the two rudely as Kenny took the left side of Kyle.

"Shut up, Cartman." Kyle glared until Kenny linked his arm onto Kyle's and commented cutely,

"Hey, Kyle…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm making a new list for this year," He grinned slyly, "and guess who the lucky dog is at number one!"

The redhead took his arm out of its twist with Kenny's to slap the back of the blonde's head, red crawling up his freckled face as he muttered, "Shut the fuck up, Kenny, I will not sleep with you."

Kenny pouted, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head,

"Jeez, you could've just said 'no'…"

Kyle scowled, "You never listen when I say no."

Kenny grinned, "Yeah, I know."

Cartman cleared his throat, calling their attention back to him as he wrapped a heavy arm over Stan's broad shoulders, interviewing,

"So, you makin' it to my party tonight, Stan?"

He shook his head negatively, "No."

Eric tore his arm away, distaste sketched on his features, "Fuck you, why not?"

Stan's face was filling with color again, "I promised to hang out with Kyle."

Cartman glared at his long time rival; Cartman had grown a liking to Stan as they got older, but would never pursue him as he knew he was straight. Cartman was up to no good in Kyle's house one night, the year before, looking for possible blackmail when he found a leather-bound journal containing all of Kyle's gushy, girly feelings and a wordy confession that he was gay. Not only was he gay, he knew he was gay because he was attracted to and infatuated with his best friend; Stanley Marsh. He threatened to tell the whole school, including Stan unless Kyle did every project and homework for him for the following year; Kyle begrudgingly agreed and never spoke a word to anyone of the harassment in fear of his childhood friend learning his darkest secret.

"Fuck you, Jew, you don't even celebrate Christmas; stop stealing away good people and trying to convert them. Stan's a good man, he doesn't deserve to walk down Satan's alley with you."

Kyle's beautiful, ivy eyes narrowed, "Fuck you, Cartman."

"Actually," Stan began, "I invited Kyle to hang out with me. He thought I was going to your party too."

Cartman shot a nasty look to Stan, "Shut up, Stan."

Kenny interjected, "Hey, if I don't die, I'll be there!"

Cartman rolled his caramel eyes, "You always die before my Christmas party, though."

"Does it really matter?" Kyle pressed, "You invited the entire school body, people are bound to show up. It's not like you'll be alone or something."

Cartman opened his mouth to expel some awful insult, but the bell rang and they all ran in separate directions, late to class.


	2. Warm Arms

The tree was lit up, the ornaments and lights sparkling in the room while the fireplace crackled, making Stan's chest swell with pride. He sighed, looking around at the living room; candles were lit, the fireplace was warming the house, the tree was glistening, the pillows were puffed, the blankets were folded and two mugs of hot chocolate sat steaming and waiting on the wooden table before the fireplace. Stan had changed after coming home from his normal jacket and navy blue, long-sleeved shirt to a black turtleneck sweater that he felt more flattered his strong build. He had spent nearly an hour in front of the mirror placing and replacing almost every strand of hair into its perfect position; his heart was pounding as he looked out his window to the night sky and anxiously waited for the phone to ring.

He switched on the white, red and green lights that shimmered around the house, setting his house differently than all those more bland on the block. As he admired his front lawn that was blanketed in snow the familiar buzzing of the phone echoed through the house and he jumped up, his pulse doubled and he ran into the kitchen. He picked up the phone attached to the wall, inquiring,

"Hello?"

"Hey, dude, is it okay if I come over now?"

Stan grinned, "Y-yeah, you want me to come pick you up? My dad left his car here, I could always—"

"No way, the roads are way too icy tonight. I'll walk it, don't worry. I'll be there soon."

Stan nodded, "Alright, see you soon."

With that they hung up and Stan paced in the living room, remembering the past year and all the screen-shot moments in his mind. As he walked up and down nervously, his dog eyeing him strangely from the kitchen floor, he recalled when exactly it was he fell in love with Kyle.

* * *

(Three Christmas's ago…)

"You have to kiss!"

Kyle glared, "I'm a Jew, I don't have to follow Christmas rules!"

Stan and Kyle had an unfortunate miscalculation of timing and placement and ended up under the mistletoe together. Wendy Testaburger was Stan's girlfriend then, scowling at him expectantly; as if Stan was supposed to be utterly disgusted that his Super Best Friend would accidently end up with Stan in that predicament. Stan did find her terribly annoying at times. Cartman crossed his chubby arms over his chest,

"Doesn't matter. You're under the mistletoe, you can't just escape Christian rule with a lame excuse like that; otherwise everyone will start saying their Jewish to get out of it! People will be miss-matched and use the classic "Kahl Broflovski" pardoning, mistletoes were lose their awkward and semi-punishing meaning, random acts of love will be thrown to the dogs, Christmas will fall apart, the world will be thrown into chaos, it will be Massteria and it will be all your fault!"

Kyle flustered, rolling his beautiful eyes at the brunette, "FINE, FINE, GOD, I'M SORRY I ARGUED IT, JESUS CHRIST…"

Stan looked down to the shorter boy, his hands suddenly sweaty and heart beating boisterously, heating his face. Kyle's was the same, his freckles coated in red and his emerald eyes shining with uncertainty and bashfulness. He did not break eye-contact with Stan when he interviewed Cartman,

"Well…it's just a kiss, right? It doesn't really matter, I could just kiss his cheek, right?"

Cartman clicked his tongue, "Tsk, tsk, silly Jew, the mistletoe has red and white beady-parts; that means tongues must be used."

"WHAT?" Kyle shot his red face to Eric who continued,

"Sorry, Kahl, if it's just white then it means you don't use tongue, but if it's red you have to."

The redhead slowly looked back at Stan from beneath his lashes, calling attention to his girlish, embarrassed expression. Stan could not speak, could not even find the energy to open his mouth in an attempt; he was very suddenly and very strangely enraptured. He was examining Kyle like a specimen; his high cheekbones, his long lashes, his silky curls, his full lips, his button nose and his breath-taking eyes. They were so hypnotizing, swirling like acidic miasma captured in two envy-drenched halos and wrapped around the twisting, black galaxy of his big pupils, reflecting Stan's intent gaze. The shadows his locks created on themselves on his ears, forehead and neck combined with the muscles in his neck and rarely visible collarbone tugged at Stan's stomach making him feel nervous but spellbound. He wondered why he had never noticed how utterly gorgeous Kyle was before.

"Stan…can I kiss you?"

His cheeks were stained with scarlet as he swallowed fire and nodded hesitantly; that initiated the ceremony of Kyle's bewitching curse. He leaned up on his toes, lifting him by the inch he needed to reach Stan's height; then he lowered his eyelids, the blush traveling to the tips of his ears and exciting every nerve in Stan's body. Stan found his lids feeling heavy, his head spinning in fascination and overwhelming, absurd elation until finally, Kyle Broflovski kissed him. He breathed in deeply and sharply through his nose, making him feel light and sending waves of tickling heat and chills down his back and up into his hot face. Kissing Kyle was much different from kissing Wendy. Wendy was soft, but fragile; Kyle felt tender and smooth, but strong and it fascinated Stan. He ran his guitar callused fingers into Kyle's marmalade locks, tugging slightly and on some curls just pulling gently on them, running it through his hand and appreciating the delicate and springy nature. He took his thumb and brought it to the heated and nervous spot where their lips were conjoined; he separated them by tucking his fingers into Kyle's mouth and anchoring his full bottom lip to give himself entry. The kiss deepened further and he secretly adored the feeling of Kyle stiffen against him in nervous discomposure. His knees felt weak, his heart roared, his blood raced, his head spun, his face reddened and he could no longer mandate his body; it moved against Kyle on its own accord, ignoring the screaming in his mind. It was seduced, it was enchanted, it was investigating his best friend, it was imploring, begging for more. More to touch, more to kiss, more to taste and feel, and then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended. Kyle tore away with a deep huff; he was trying to catch his breath and it only made Stan want more to see the adorable boy innocently so unused to kissing so deeply.

Stan's eyes were bolted to the boy's lips; heavy, thick, pink and kiss-swollen. Stan wanted more. Stan wanted to grab Kyle and force his tongue back into him to revisit that sugary sweet taste behind the other boy's mouth. Stan could not find the bravery to look at his girlfriend; he knew, however, that he would be breaking up with her. From that single experience he forgot about his love for Wendy Testaburger. From the single, talismanic occurrence, Stan learned that he was on the prowl for something awfully different. He was on the hunt for Kyle.

* * *

The doorbell rang, breaking him out of his trip down Memory Lane and back into reality. He opened the door to find his snowflake peppered friend, looking to him with his beautiful eyes like he always did. He rushed inside, collapsing by the fireplace and shaking at a wave of chills. He looked to Stan, sighing in comfort,

"Jesus, it's cold out there!"

Stan nodded, "Yeah, it's fucking cold out there. I told you I would come and get you, but oh-no!"

"Dude, last time you got caught using your dad's car."

"That's only because I crashed into that pole."

"That's only more reason that I'm glad I didn't let you get out on the ice."

"It came out of nowhere!"

"The pole!?" Kyle laughed.

Stan walked up to him retrieving his coat and hat, gloves and boots and setting them by the front door. Kyle looked around, commenting kindly,

"The place looks great. The lights and everything is really pretty. You did this all yourself?"

"Yeah. Dad hurt his back at work and you know Mom, she thinks it's a man's job, so I've been busy around here."

Kyle hummed in agreement until he spotted the two mugs on the table, inquiring,

"Is that hot cocoa?"

"Yeah, I made it really hot so it would last for when you got here."

Kyle simpered in the angelic way that was his signature,

"Thanks, Stan."

The boy rose from his seat before the fireplace, taking the mug and then reseated himself on the floor, leaning against the stone ledge that lead into the fire pit. Stan approached casually, taking his mug and sitting beside his friend. There was a short, comfortable silence until Kyle interviewed,

"Hey…was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What do you mean?" Stan blushed; he knew it was coming. He'd have to say it. He'd have to act on it. He made a vow.

"I dunno, you just seemed anxious today. Are you alright?"

"Yeah…there's…there's just something I need to tell you…"

"Yeah?"

Stan settled his mug down on the stone ledge, looking at his twiddling fingers in his lap. Kyle was catching on to the serious tone of whatever was about to come out of Stan. He put his cup on the ledge behind him and stared patiently. Stan's heart was racing, but there were no words that would come to his disposal. He looked up to Kyle, his arm rising and sizable hand capturing Kyle's jaw; the redhead's gaze lowered, his half-lidded eyes watching Stan's hand caress his freckled cheek. When his eyes rose again they were met with the image of Stan moving dangerously close; his bedroom eyes were closed in on Kyle's lips and his chest ached with want. In reality, Stan had actually moved quite quickly, blending their mouths together not yet clumsily, but hungrily; he had waited so long to taste Kyle again, after all. The eagerness combined with the undying distress warped his comprehension and control and he gave into his desire for his best friend, forcing his tongue back into its missed territory. He easily overwhelmed Kyle, the boy first leaning back on his elbows then falling onto his back against the carpeted floor. Stan's fingers wrapped and unwrapped in Kyle's hair, lovingly stroking every lock and twist, their hearts boomed against each other creating deafening storms of music and then Stan tore away, catching his breath. He immediately looked at Kyle's lips; there they were. Just as he remembered. Thick, heavy, pink and kiss-swollen, moist, healthy with the texture of a rose petal.

"Kye…I…"

Stan was shocked to feel Kyle's athletic, though lanky arms wrap under his arms, his dexterous hands gripping at Stan's shoulder-blades and pulling him back down. The kiss was passionate and Stan melted into Kyle, the feeling of his soft skin and rough hands, thin figure but toned muscles and those wonderful, pink, heavy, thick, kiss-swollen lips moving against him. They tore away again, Kyle's bedroom eyes eliciting a desirous ache by Stan's abdomen as he murmured cutely,

"Merry Christmas."

As his lips were captured again, his heart sang in sickening optimism at the fact that this would be one of many and many to come.

**End! **

**Merry Christmas!**


End file.
